Rush Hour
by akisura12
Summary: John finally comes home after working overtime at the hospital for nearly 40 hours and Sherlock is just itching to go on a case with him. But John is acting strange and hyperactive, and when the doctor is sick, Sherlock knows something is up.


-Title: Rush Hour-

Author: Akisura12

Summary: John finally comes home after working overtime at the hospital for nearly 40 hours and Sherlock is just itching to go on a case with him. But John is acting strange and hyperactive, and when the doctor is sick, Sherlock knows something is up.

Rating: K+ No bad themes, but there IS use of the f-word and mentions of Anderson doing unseemly things to dinosaurs, which is the only reason for the +. Just non-romantic fluff 3

Genre: Humour/Mystery

Warnings: Nope, though slight spoiler for the end of How to Train Your Dragon the movie^^'.

Disclaimer: Sherlock the TV series in which I am writing from is in no way mine or affiliated with me. Sherlock is property of the BBC, and Sherlock Holmes is the creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

A/N: Hello there! Gabby here, back for another Sherlock fic :) If you're waiting for the next part to The Way I Cared For You, don't worry, it's being written!^^ If not, go check it out! Shameless plug. See if you can figure out what's happening to John before Sherlock in this story! I do love character torture sighs. I tried a current progressive-tense this time around; please tell me if it worked. Okay onto the story, please enjoy and remember to REVIEW! :D

**Sherlock** is rapidly tapping his foot and sitting on the couch in his flat, ready to leap off the second his flat mate, John Watson, comes through the door. A case has come up and the detective inspector Lestrade has grudgingly asked for Sherlock's help on it. Sherlock knows there is a large difference between the number of cases Lestrade _needs_ help with and what he actually _wants_ help with, which is why he now takes it upon himself to text Lestrade demanding certain aspects of anything interesting he finds in the paper or on the internet. However Sherlock has recently started to hesitate before going on cases alone - He has even waited for John to come home from his working duties at the hospital before dragging the poor doctor along with him to inspect whatever poor sod's been murdered this time. Sherlock says having a reliable medical opinion is a valuable tool. John's pretty sure it's just because he likes having someone to talk to aside from the skull and to fetch his phone for him.

Today Sherlock is fed up with waiting though, because he has been waiting for over 20 hours (a record). John went to work on call at 6:30 am yesterday and it is now 21:00 pm the next day - Sherlock has gotten no replies from his multiple texts during the 38 and 1/2 hours since John left. He is just about to move from his hunched over position on the couch when he hears the door downstairs open. Sherlock tenses, unsteepling his fingers, because John's in such a hurry it makes him think there might be something chasing him. But no, it's only John's feet on the floor; he is just running very loudly. This makes Sherlock frown, because John barely ever hurries.

John bursts through their flat's door with a loud, "Hullo Sherlock! I was just coming home and I saw your texts, but I was in the cab back already so I didn't reply," the doctor says apologetically and paces quickly over to a rather bewildered Sherlock. John leans down so that he is sitting on his own heels and grins in a way that Sherlock is not used to and says, "Ready for the case, yeah?" And then John _giggles_ while he's standing up, which Sherlock is sure makes this definitely not normal.

"John," he says slowly. "Have you… taken anything recently?" He stands and walks over to his all too hyper flat mate who is struggling to get his arms into his coat.

"No no, haven't eaten a thing! Well, Sarah let me have a granola bar. But I'm just happy to be going on a case with you, 'Lock," John grins.

Sherlock doesn't like this at all. "John," he tries again, and reaches out to feel if the doctor has a fever. John's mood suddenly seems to drastically do a 180 at this and he snarls and slaps Sherlock's hand away.

"Stop that," he hisses, and his look is stormy. And then a second later he's back to cheerful, and Sherlock is oh so confused.

John starts to rush out the door and Sherlock follows, grabbing his coat as they rush out and determined to figure out what crazy drug John was currently on. John seemed the type to abhor drugs though, so maybe Mycroft had kidnapped him and he'd had a bad reaction to something they sedated him with? Unlikely, none of Mycroft's usual signatures were left over on John person, Sherlock observed. And there were no visible needle marks on John's skin. So what, then? All John smelled of was his usual scent when he returned from the hospital - Anti-bacterial soap, bleach, coffee. It was stronger than usual, but that was only natural, considering how long he'd spent there.

John is skipping - he's actually _skipping_ - down the street hailing a cab with much more relish than Sherlock knows he would ever do normally. As soon as one stops in front of them, John leaps into the seat and excitedly tells the cabbie to bring "me and my partner" to the police station. Sherlock doesn't mention the bad grammar or the second-long look of surprise that the cabbie gives them at the words "partner."

Sherlock takes the small amount of time they have from Baker Street to the Lestrade's office as an opportunity to study John. He's flushed and slightly clammy, though Sherlock supposes that could be from the excited running around. John's pupils aren't dilated, but he's twitching, every 10 seconds or so, a harsh jerk that seems to also make John's shoulder shudder in turn. John also seems to be extremely restless, moving around in the seat as if it's horrendously uncomfortable, which it's not. He hasn't buckled his seat belt, which John never forgets, _never_!

"I'm hungry," John states, "And I would like a peanut butter and banana sandwich." Sherlock is very surprised by this. John has never given him an order so seriously before, not one that had anything to do with the normal things people ordered each other to do (abnormal things that John often orders him to do all the time include "Shoot him, don't kill him," "Get those fucking eyes off my lunch pail," "Run if you don't want to die, moran," and "Hey, it's not Anderson's fault he's a dinosaur wanking idiot who can't even do a proper dusting for fingerprints correctly."

"We can get something later," Sherlock says awkwardly. He thinks he might even be getting a bit scared.

"But I want something right _nooowww_." John opens his mouth far too wide at the last word, and Sherlock thinks he even hears the man's jaw pop. The strong smell of coffee wafts out from John's throat and drifts into the air. Now that Sherlock notices it, John smells very heavily of coffee. Too much so.

Sherlock sighs at the realization while the cab simultaneously jerks slightly to a stop. Sherlock absentmindedly pushes a few notes at the cabbie and hurries John out of the cab, because now that he knows what's happened, he figures John better get to the hospital as soon as possible. Lestrade was better at all that paperwork paraphernalia though, so Sherlock decides he'll usher John towards Lestrade's office while interrogating the good doctor.

He holds on to John's wrist, because the doctor seems to be have become abruptly fascinated with a balloon stuck in a nearby oak tree, and drags him along the sidewalk while one-handedly flipping open his phone and pushing *3 to put Lestrade on speed dial. "Hello Lestrade, we are coming up to your office right now," he says as he pushes John into the elevator and the man starts to hop on one foot. Sherlock rolls his eyes, "And please call 999 right now for me." He hangs up before Lestrade can finish the exclamation of surprise, or annoyance, and hits the elevator button.

Sherlock sighs and John does the same. Sherlock glares at John, and John gives him a soppy and almost cute glare back, then laughs. Sherlock scowls, "How many cups of coffee did you have?" He asks irritably.

John giggles again, sounding very much like the girl who asked Sherlock to go out with him to a dance in his first year of secondary school. "Idunno, I think…" John crunches his eyes rather comically. "I think…7? Or 8? Or maybe isa diff'ntnmbr." John shrugs and resumes staring at the wall, his body no longer pausing before twitches, more so full out shaking violently.

"John – _Fuck_," Sherlock growls. 7 cups of coffee was more than enough to send anyone, especially _John_ who was such a light weight, into a caffeine induced overdose. He hopes Lestrade called 999 and the ambulance was on the way, because John's now slurred words make Sherlock feel an umpleasant lump in his throat that he isn't used to.

Lestrade is pacing in front of the elevator when they get out, looking very irritable. "Sherlock, I don't know what you're playing at, but if you've had me wait 20 hours just to get to me prank call 999, I am most definitely arresting you for the night. Hullo John."

John doesn't respond, just staggers a little, and Sherlock smirks humourlessly. If the situation weren't so dangerous for John, it might actually be endearing. "He's overdosed on coffee. Really, _really_ overdosed."

And then John unexpectantly throws up, shudders violently, and passes out onto the floor in a heap next to Sherlock.

Lestrade looks panicked and Sherlock quickly leans down and gently taps John's flushed cheeks. "John, come on, hey wake _up_," he says urgently and John doesn't. The doctor starts seizing instead, at which point Sherlock begins to look genuinely scared. And then the paramedics have somehow come and taken John away. Sherlock rides in the ambulance, sure that of all the things John could have accidentally killed himself with, it _would_ be with coffee.

They are driven to the hospital John works at because it's the closest one, which Sherlock isn't exactly thrilled about, since it's the place that caused him to drink so many coffees anyway, but knows it's for the better. And Sherlock knows John knows he took in much too much caffeine in one day than was okay, and yet he did it anyway, so Sherlock figures John must have been extremely tired, so much as to ether forget or ignore the safety precautions.

John is fine of course; Sherlock would have been mad at him if he died now from a couple of extra coffees instead of some huge gun chase through a graveyard or something even more dramatic. However he _is_ looking quite ill after he wakes up. Sherlock tells him they had to pump his stomach and give him activated charcoal and it was all John's fault for being an idiot. John's cheeks turn red again, but this time it's from embarrassment.

"Sorry," he mumbles," I was working for nearly 40 hours, and I didn't want to fall asleep while sticking needles into somebody or something…"

"Right, it'd be better to accidentally stab them multiple times with the needle," Sherlock says smoothly, and John blushes even more deeply. He just coughs quietly into the tissue Sherlock's given him to rub the black spit off the corner of his mouth, silently mortified at himself.

Sherlock sighs and pushes John's arm lightly so that the man lies back down. "Get some rest," he says softly, and John realizes Sherlock's probably never done this whole take-care-of-a-friend thing before. He smirks inwardly.

"Thanks," John says smiling. Sherlock nods, stands, and leaves the room with a small little hand gesture with his middle and pointer fingers. John knows this is as sensual as Sherlock could get in this sort of situation. He's rather proud for causing it, in a twisted fashion that he really wishes would go away.

When John is released, Sherlock picks him up by cab and they ride home together in a comfortable silence. John sits in his chair and Sherlock is draped dramatically over the side of his couch, both drinking cups of herbal tea John had prepared for the them and watching the end of a movie running called _How to Train Your Dragon,_ just because it's on and they're too lazy to find something they both actually want to watch. John finds himself rather enjoying it, until Sherlock says, "You see, that boy actually has a limp." John throws the Union Jack pillow at Sherlock with a scowl and they both laugh.

**Fin.**

A/N: Like it? I hope at least one of you got the answer before Sherlock, though unless you're familiar with caffeine poisoning I guess it's not that recognizable…^^' John just seemed high, yeah? I'm not very good with this tense, yet I think in it…:\ Also, I know some of the words I used in this aren't actually real words, but I couldn't think of anything better to use^^'. Please tell me what you thought, if you liked it, how I improved, if you thought it sucked…I just love reviews! :D And I always respond as long as they're signed and PMs are enabled :) Thanks again!

- Gabby [akisura12]


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